


Wildcat

by foxxing (gayfantasticfour)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Car Sex, Fingering, M/M, Oneshot, Rough Sex, bad boy!jaebum, dorky!jinyoung, illegal car racing AU, rich bad boy!jaebum, technically hate sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayfantasticfour/pseuds/foxxing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one really talks about it, but it's a well known secret that Jaebum’s real vice is racing cars. Dangerous and incredibly illegal, street racing is the one thing Jaebum is good at (besides being the nation’s first pain in the ass) and has never been caught for. How he does it, nobody knows: Jaebum's been caught for drugs, for stealing, for fighting, but it seems like the one thing the police can never pin him down for is the one thing he loves the most. </p><p>He represents everything that Jinyoung can't stand, and Jinyoung hates him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildcat

**Author's Note:**

> whoops, back at it again
> 
> so this came about bc of a prompt request on my [ask.fm](http://www.ask.fm/foxxingtwt) that was along the lines of, "do an NSFW AU where Jaebum is an illegal street racer and he wants to win the prize AKA Jinyoung. So, that's how this happened.
> 
> If you're interested, [this is what's playing while they're driving.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKzWLUQizz8)
> 
> 11/06/16: [pls look at this beautiful fan art](https://twitter.com/monikirogers/status/795192504048091136) done by [@monikirogers on twitter](https://twitter.com/monikirogers) <333 
> 
> also it's v late and i edited this m'self so there might be mistakes sdlkfjsdg <3

Money. Cars. Girls. Boys. Im Jaebum always gets what he wanted, whether it was given to him or taken by him. Park Jinyoung knows this. 

The son of the richest man in Korea, it is hard to  _ not _ know Im Jaebum. A typical spoiled brat in Jinyoung’s eyes: born into money, getting away with anything and everything as long as he gave that handsome devil’s smile and flashed handfuls of money when he did it. He’s the type to post pictures on Instagram of him partying on boats in the middle of the ocean, posing with illegally kept Indochinese tigers in Thailand, drunk off his ass in dimly lit neon clubs in Japan, all of them garnering thousands upon millions of likes. Im Jaebum is the type to always have a story plastered all over the tabloids for some reason or another, and the newsstands and bodegas spread along the streets on Jinyoung’s route to work are always full to the brim of them, hundreds of little Jaebums sneering at him from the pages. 

Needless to say, Jinyoung’s never met the guy but he's tired of seeing his face. 

No one really talks about it, but it's a well known secret that Jaebum’s  _ real _ vice is racing cars. Dangerous and incredibly illegal, street racing is the one thing Jaebum is good at (besides being the nation’s first pain in the ass) and has never been caught for. How he does it, nobody knows: Jaebum's been caught for drugs, for stealing, for fighting, but it seems like the one thing the police can never pin him down for is the one thing he loves the most.

He represents everything that Jinyoung can't stand, and Jinyoung hates him. 

 

-

 

“Please come with me,” Jackson begs, his hands clasped together in the universal sign of begging. Jinyoung rolls his eyes at him—unfortunately for Jinyoung, the one person he'd chosen to be his closest friend is also a bit of a delinquent, and a troublemaker at worst. Jackson is, in all ways, his polar opposite: loud, brash, excitable; Jackson is the first to be somewhere he's not supposed to be and the last person to leave. So it shouldn't surprise him that Jackson is trying to make him go somewhere he doesn't want to go.

“I don't want to go to the party, Jackson,” Jinyoung says again, ignoring the puppy eyes Jackson is currently trying to wield on him. Unfortunately for Wang Jackson, Jinyoung is immune to his charms. Usually. 

“Please? There's gonna be lots of hot guys there.” 

Jinyoung lowers the magazine he's reading while trying to ignore him and throws Jackson a look. “You always say that like it's going to work, but it never does.” 

Jackson sighs. “I know. It was worth a shot.” 

“Was it?” Jinyoung quips, grinning when Jackson glares. “You always say it was worth a shot but always get denied. Is it really worth the humiliation?” 

The face Jackson makes exudes offense and he scoffs dramatically, hand over his heart. “I'll have you know, Park Jinyoung, that I am shameless, and therefore cannot be humiliated.” 

Trying not to laugh, Jinyoung nods and raises his magazine again. “This is true.”

Jackson makes a loud, drawn out noise of frustration and flops down on Jinyoung’s bed, arms spread and staring at the ceiling. “I promised them you'd be there.”

Jinyoung doesn't look over. “Good thing you can't be humiliated then, I guess.” 

He looks over when Jackson flips, whining. “Can't you do this for me? Please? I specifically promised you'd come… they're expecting you, and if I do well, I could earn a lot of money. Money I could send to my parents in China.” 

Jinyoung lowers the magazine though he hasn't been looking at it, ignoring Jackson’s attempt to dig at his soft spot by mentioning his parents. “‘Earn some money’? What the hell kind of party is this?”

Jackson wags his eyebrows at him, and he's finally had it: Jinyoung rolls up the magazine and throws it at him, quietly satisfied when it hits Jackson in the face and he squawks. After pushing the magazine off and to the floor, Jackson sighs, chocolate brown eyes seriously begging now. “Please? It'll be fun. I promise. And it's for me. Sort of.” 

“Fine,” he says, struggling to push Jackson off when the blonde boy whoops in delight and locks his arms around Jinyoung’s neck in celebration.

Unfortunately for Park Jinyoung, he actually isn't all that immune to Jackson’s charms, after all. 

 

-

 

When Jackson picks him up a few days later for the party, he knows something is wrong immediately. 

Jinyoung stops halfway down the sidewalk in front of his house when he sees the car Jackson is driving. It's sleek, a dark silver with thin black lines down the side, and a spoiler set low and pointed on the trunk. The windows are pitch black with tint, and he wouldn't even be sure that Jackson is inside if it weren't for the thump of the bass radiating from the speakers. Jackson must notice him, because the music stops and Jackson gets halfway out, waving him over. 

“C’mon, Park! We’re gonna be late!” 

He reluctantly approaches the car, gripping the handle but not opening it. Jinyoung stares Jackson down over the hood: Jackson looks... _ sexy.  _ His blond hair is slicked back, and there's the smallest hint of kohl smudged at the corners of his eyes to make them look deeper, more mysterious. He's got a leather jacket on over a black button up shirt, a simple chain around his neck and resting against his chest. Jackson is usually more fond of simple college boy style, something that's easy to run from the cops in. But this?

“I'm not coming,” Jinyoung says suddenly, turning away from the car. He's gonna make a break for it and disappear back into the house when Jackson just says,

“We’re going to be late. Get in, nerd.” 

Jinyoung debates on whether he should actually get in now that Jackson has resorted to name calling, but Jinyoung is a man of his word so he gets in the car, muttering “I'm not a nerd” under his breath. 

They don't talk much on the drive, and this actually makes Jinyoung nervous: Jackson is the talkative type, always filling up the silence with words or singing. But tonight he seems nervous himself, quiet and moody, hands gripping the steering wheel so tight it looks uncomfortable. Jinyoung wants to ask but doesn't think he should; Jackson seems nervous as it is and he doesn't want to make it worse, so he contents himself by turning away to look out the window. 

Or, trying to at least, since the heavy tint makes it nearly impossible to see out of now that night has fallen. Jinyoung can just make out the passing of the streetlights as Jackson drives them down the freeway, mostly empty of other cars with the late hour. It’s hard to tell where they are, the only thing really being visible are the street lights, and after a while even those are gone, plunging them into darkness. He looks forward out of the windshield, and he's startled when they're on a back road, the brights illuminating the darkness only so far before the light bleeds into more blackness. If he squints, he can just barely make out a shape in the distance: massive, and round, dotted with circular shapes in intervals. Is that…  _ the Ferris wheel? _

“Jackson,” Jinyoung says low, voice like a warning though he's not really sure what he's warning him for. Even as he's watching, brightness explodes in intervals as floodlights flip on, illuminating the dark Ferris wheel in the distance and the chain link fences up ahead that section off a parking lot. From what he can tell it's the fairgrounds: they're closed this time of year, but he's not stupid: he knows kids come here all the time to cause trouble, drinking and partying. There's the long strip of road leading away from the fairgrounds and out into the rural part of the city where there's hardly anyone around, and even Jinyoung knows that kids come out here to race cars—

The realization slams into him and he jerks like he’d been physically struck. It all makes sense now: the limited details, the car, Jackson’s outfit, the nervous energy. Jackson isn't taking him to a party at all, but to an illegal car race. 

Holy. Shit. 

“Jackson!” He nearly shouts, and Jackson winces visibly. Jinyoung turns to him in horror. “Jackson, you can't be serious.” 

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and then they're pulling in through a large gap in the fence that looks like it had been made with power tools. Jinyoung swallows nervously when a boy around their age steps out in front of the car, illuminated by the brights. Jackson turns them off and the boy comes around to lean in Jackson’s window. 

“Who are you?” he asks, eyes initially on Jackson but going to Jinyoung after. The boy is handsome, Jinyoung’ll give him that: dishwater blond by the look of it, all sharp lines and dark eyes and sharp teeth when he smiles. Jinyoung feels his stomach flip, then warm, under the scrutiny of the sharp faced boy resting his forearms across the window. There's a lilt to his Korean, one that's distinctly American, and Jinyoung wonders uselessly how a pretty American boy got caught up being the muscle for illegal car racing in Korea. 

“I'm Jackson,” he finally says, and the boy looks back at him. “And this is…” he hesitates, glancing nervously at Jinyoung before looking back at the boy leaning in the window. “This is, uh, Jinyoung.” 

“I'm Mark,” he says lazily, eyes skating over Jinyoung again. Mark is wearing an oversized, sleeveless hoodie over an equally oversized long sleeve shirt, the hoodie strings dangling where he leans further in. Even in Mark’s casual getup, the more Mark inspects him, the more underdressed he feels in ripped blue jeans and striped t-shirt tucked in. “Jinyoung, huh?” 

His voice is deep, smooth like the surface of a stone, and the predatory way he watches Jinyoung makes him feel hot and nervous all at once. 

Jackson coughs, interrupting. “JB knows. He's the…goods.” 

Mark just laughs. “Oh, that's right. Go on in.” He pulls away from the car, slapping the side of it and the metallic clang makes Jinyoung jump.

“ _ ‘The goods’ _ ?” he trills, voice high with panic. “Jackson, what does that mean?” 

Jackson doesn't say anything, just keeps driving until they come upon a whole convoy of souped up sports cars. Along with the array of floodlights lighting up the racetrack, there's old, waist high oil drums littered around harboring small fires. Jinyoung stares at it all in disbelief: the people huddled around the fires, the air smoky from cigarettes and pot, beer bottles on the ground and in people’s hands and lifted in the air as boys down them in one go. He can see the glowing cherries of cigarettes everywhere, but it's too dark to make out anyone’s faces. Jackson parks, earning them a few disinterested glances. 

“Jackson.” 

“Okay, I lied.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widen. “About what?!”

“For one, about this being a party. And two, about me promising you'd be here.” 

“So I didn't even need to come.” A statement, heavy with anger. 

“Not exactly. I promised...I promised that if JB could beat me in a race, that he could take you out.” 

Jinyoung’s heart nearly stops. “Like kill me?” 

“No! No, you idiot. For someone who graduated top of their class, you can be incredibly dense sometimes.” Jackson sighs. “Like take you out on a date.” 

“JB? Who is JB? Jackson, why would you do that?” 

Jackson looks away. “Jaebum.”

“I don't even know a—” the realization strikes like an arrow. “Oh, Jackson, you didn't!” 

He finally turns, face pleading. “Jinyoung-ah, I'm so sorry. I am. I shouldn't have done it. But he promised me if I beat him, he'd give me a ton of money, and I was going to give it to my parents. I'm serious, Jinyoung, I'm so sorry.” 

Jinyoung isn't even sure what to say: Jackson just admitted to basically setting him up on a date with the one person he loathes the most on this earth totally against his will. Jackson looks miserable, and Jinyoung feels a bit shaken: he knows how much Jackson loves and misses his parents, and he understands how he thought he could win and send the money to them. But he just can't swallow the anger. 

“You'd better hope you win, Wang Jackson,” Jinyoung spits, before giving his best friend a look and slamming his way out of the car. 

Once he's standing in the dirt, he realizes he's totally out of his element. The people standing around the oil drums for warmth glance at him and then away, disinterested in the nerdy looking boy and continuing with their own conversations. Angry and scared and betrayed, Jinyoung puts his head down and makes his way to the bleachers he'd seen when he'd stepped out of the car. There's voices all around him, laughing and talking and swearing, boys rough housing and girls gossiping with each other around the mouths of their beers or the filtered cigarettes. Jinyoung doesn't look up, and he doesn't realize the voice he's hearing belongs to a person in his path until he's running into them, shoulders knocking and Jinyoung almost falling as a result. 

He yelps, arms going out to catch himself as he missteps, but then a hand decked out in heavy rings is reaching out to grab at his wrist and pulls. Jinyoung stumbles forward, into the chest of the person who'd saved him from falling. Jinyoung fists a hand in their shirt to steady himself, and he's in the middle of thanking them when he looks up and sees who it is. 

_ He's much more handsome in person _ , is Jinyoung’s first thought when he meets the eyes of the infamous Im Jaebum. Loosely styled silver hair, dark at the roots, falls messily across his forehead above his dark eyebrows. He's all sharp lines, just like he is in magazines: catlike eyes, dark and dangerous, and the silver from the multiple piercings in each ear seem to glow in the firelight. It takes Jinyoung a moment to realize that he's staring until Jaebum’s pouty mouth is quirking up in a cocky half smile.

“Hi.” 

“Ugh,” Jinyoung makes an audible noise of disgust, quickly letting go of where he'd had a grip of Jaebum’s t-shirt, the black fabric wrinkled and the stark red lettering spelling out METALLICA warped where he'd pulled on it. He steps back, both hands brushing down the front of his shirt. 

“Come on,” Jaebum purrs, and Jinyoung looks back up at him with a glare already in place. “We haven't even met yet, and you're already mad at me? Don't be like that, sweetheart.”

Jinyoung’s glad for the darkness when the pet name rolls off Jaebum’s tongue and makes him blush a bit. “Don't sweet talk me,” Jinyoung spits, meeting Jaebum’s eyes and getting infinitely more worked up when they're already on his, half lidded and watching him lazily like a hungry cat watching a canary. “I'm not one of your whores.” 

Jaebum steps forward, arm snaking out and around Jinyoung’s waist. He pulls him close, Jinyoung’s chest colliding with his, hands out to catch himself on Jaebum’s shirt. It's so much like he's a damsel in distress being wooed by the mysterious bad boy, and Jinyoung wants to puke at how smarmy he is: he's so fucking James Dean with his cigarette between his lips and leather jacket warm and buttery under Jinyoung’s fingertips. Jaebum’s fingers burn a hole in his shirt where they're resting at his lower back and, Jaebum maybe a douchebag, but he's a hot douchebag, and he's looking at Jinyoung like he wants to eat him alive. As much as Jinyoung hates to admit it, his arch nemesis seems to know just what he likes and he can't help the warm stab of pleasure in his gut at Jaebum’s touch. 

“Mm,” he hums, eyes raking up and down his body. Lazy. Effortlessly sexy and it's not fair, Jinyoung hates him but he's drawn in by him anyway with his razor blade looks and modern James Dean lean. “Do you want to be?”

“Fuck you,” Jinyoung spits, letting go of Jaebum’s shirt, but Jaebum tightens his arm. 

“Do you want to?” He purrs, and Jinyoung  _ despises  _ the way his traitorous brain screams  _ sort of.  _

“Fuck  _ off,”  _ Jinyoung corrects, squirming out the circle of Jaebum's arms. The older male actually looks a bit disappointed, but Jinyoung ignores it. “Jackson didn't ask me if it was alright, you know.” 

Jaebum hums disinterestedly. “That's not surprising. He seemed pretty desperate.”

Jinyoung's heart sinks, confused. “Desperate?”

“Like he needed the money. Said it was for his parents. His mum’s sick, it seems.”

Jaebum sounds so nonchalant, but Jinyoung’s heart is racing. Jackson’s mum is sick? Why didn't he say anything? He suddenly feels so bad for being angry. He's allowed to be, he knows he is, and Jackson isn't entirely forgiven for promising him to someone just in exchange for  _ potentially  _ winning some money. But Jinyoung understand a little better, at least, and it makes his chest hurt. Is Jackson really so ashamed of needing the money that he'd hide it from him like this?

Jinyoung stands up straight. “Will you throw the race? Give him the money?” 

Jaebum stares at him for a moment before bursting into high pitched laughter. “Not a chance.”

Anger starts to simmer low in Jinyoung's stomach. “Then will you give it to him anyways? Even just half of it? I don't even know how much he was promised, but even just half.” 

“No.” 

“Yah, don't be an asshole.” 

Jaebum’s eyebrow twitches upward and boy, does it make him look even sexier. “What's in it for me?” 

Jinyoung swallows against the nervousness that accompanies being in an argument with someone as deadly as Jaebum and rolls his eyes. “Does there have to be something in it for you?” 

“Yes,” Jaebum says, and doesn't elaborate. 

“Fine.” Jinyoung really hates what he's about to say next. “Give Jackson the money even if he loses, and I'll go on a date with you.” 

Jaebum crosses his arms. “You going on a date with me is already part of the deal.” 

He rolls his eyes, satisfied when Jaebum huffs in annoyance at his dismissive nature. “I'll go on another date with you.”

And then Jaebum smiles, lights reflecting off his perfect white teeth, the edges razor sharp and dangerous. Jinyoung actually gets nervous, palms sweating where they're wrapped around his biceps over his chest. 

“I want you in the car.” 

Jinyoung’s eyebrows go up, as though he'd misheard. “Huh?”

The smile on Jaebum’s face grows wider, slicing deeper. “I want you in the car when we race. In my car.”

“You—” Jinyoung sputters in disbelief. “You want me in that death trap? While you're driving it 100 miles an hour on the road?”

Jaebum shrugs casually. His face is lit by the glow of the cherry of the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, eyes narrowing as he takes a drag. Jinyoung wants to slap it out of his mouth and put it out between his stupid, gorgeous eyes. “You get in the car with me, and Jackson gets the money. All of it, even.” 

“All of it?” He can't believe he's about to agree to this. 

Jaebum nods. “All of it. As long as you ride with me.” 

With a condescending huff, Jinyoung nods once, holding back from punching Jaebum’s triumphant face. “Fine. But you give him the money or I blow this thing wide open.”

“Fair enough,” Jaebum agrees, looking up and away when he hears someone calling for him. He looks back down at Jinyoung, sharp smile back in place, and Jinyoung hates the way his knees feel watery. “Get ready. It's showtime.” 

 

_

 

Jaebum makes him wait by the sidelines while they get the cars ready. Apparently this is a showy process, with each car getting lined up in their lane individually, as though they need to show off whatever car they’re driving. Jackson’s car looks sleek and glittery under the floodlights, streamline as a bullet and Jinyoung wonders absently if Jackson might actually have a shot at this. Jackson parks the car in his lane behind the starting mark but doesn’t get out, the engine idling. 

Jaebum’s car pulls up next and Jinyoung is surprised at how minimal it is: a simple black car, void of any extraneous decoration but with windows tinted dark like Jackson’s. It’s also clean as a whistle, looking almost wet in the reflection of the floodlights with how sleek and glossy the paint is. Jaebum parks it parallel to Jackson in the opposite lane, getting out amid cheers and applause. Jinyoung rolls his eyes. They haven’t even started racing yet and he’s already showboating, a shit-eating grin on his handsome face as he eats up the attention. He makes his way slowly to Jinyoung, stopping in front of him with that same razor edged smile and a fierceness in his eyes to replace the laziness. 

“Are you ready?” Jaebum asks, a hand finding Jinyoung’s hip and pulling him a bit closer. Jinyoung hates the way it makes his stomach flop: he’s been trash talking Im Jaebum for as long as he can remember, and yet as soon as he’s the object of Jaebum’s attention, it seems like he can’t get enough of it. He’s disgusted with himself, and he makes a noise as he pushes Jaebum’s hand off his hip.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Jaebum pulls him toward the car by his wrist, opening the door for him and waiting until Jinyoung is situated down in the seat before slamming it shut. Jinyoung doesn’t bother to look around beyond seeing that the inside is also immaculately clean: the faux wood paneling shines in the dimness of the overhead light. Jaebum gets in moments later, the door slamming closed and shutting the both of them up in a heavy, uncomfortable silence. Jinyoung looks away, out the window, to see a pretty Thai boy walking up in the tightest jeans Jinyoung has ever seen and a cropped shirt designed to show off the long expanse of his torso. He stands between the cars, a cocky grin on his face, and Jinyoung wonders if all the people that hang out here just naturally have that kind of arrogance or if they learn it the more time they spend out here.

The engine purrs low as it idles, and Jinyoung can feel Jaebum’s stare on the side of his face but he doesn’t say anything about it. Jaebum watches him for a few minutes before he finally says,

“Are you going to put on your seatbelt?” 

Jinyoung’s head turns, a confused look on his face. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you’re going to put your seatbelt on.”

He honestly hadn’t even thought about it: he’s too caught up on even being in the car with Im Jaebum in the first place, a situation he never could have ever even imagined himself being in. Jinyoung watches him as he pulls it on, waiting for Jaebum to do the same. When he doesn’t, Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow.

“Are you going to wear yours?”

Jaebum barks a laugh and looks away, out the windshield. The Thai boy is standing between the cars now, motioning for them to flip on their headlights. “I never wear mine.”

“Put it on.”

Jaebum looks over at him, eyes wide in disbelief. “Yah, you think you can talk to me like that? Disrespectful.”

Jinyoung just shrugs nonchalantly, corner of his mouth pulling up when Jaebum’s face reddens with anger. “No one ever said I can’t. Put your seat belt on,  _ hyung _ ,” Jinyoung adds mockingly, loving the way Jaebum gets worked up and a bit flustered at his attitude. “You can’t fuck me if you die.”

The car goes silent for a moment as Jinyoung’s words sink in, and his eyes widen in his face, where Jaebum’s flash dangerously for a moment. Jaebum’s voice is low when he speaks, lower than it usually is, and Jinyoung hates the way it makes a shudder walk its way down his spine. “Oh, so I get to fuck you, too?” 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” Jinyoung mumbles, not entirely sure that he didn’t, but his response is lost in the fray when Jaebum revs the engine.

The Thai boy is counting down from five, and Jinyoung realizes this is it: between the countdown and the searingly loud sound of the car engines revving and whining, this is it. Jinyoung grabs the edge of the door so hard his fingers turn white, and he can’t even enjoy the fact that Jaebum quickly clicks on his seatbelt before putting his hand on the gearshift. Jinyoung’s heart starts to pound harder, until it rises up his throat and is beating in his ears as the Thai boy seems to countdown from three in slow motion.

_ Three… _

Jaebum revs the engine again, thighs shifting as he works the pedals with his feet. Jinyoung’s chest feels tight.

_ Two… _

Jaebum glances over quickly, grinning, handsome face lit up with glee in a way that makes him look softer, more boyish, in a way that Jinyoung quickly tries to forget about lest he think about it later. Jinyoung nods once at him, sweat collecting at the nape of his neck and dripping down his back. He’s tempted to close his eyes but thinks that might make it worse.

_ One… _

The pedals under Jaebum’s feet shift again, Jaebum’s hand working the gear shift like a third limb. Jinyoung’s heart is in his throat.

The Thai boy raises his arms up. One beat passes. He slices them down through the air, and then Jinyoung is being thrown violently back against the seat as Jaebum takes off. 

The older male whoops loudly as they speed out of the starting zone, Jackson’s car still pulled up next to Jaebum’s and holding speed. Jinyoung watches with his heart beating behind his eyes as Jaebum’s thighs shift again, both feet on the pedals, and his right hand shifting down on the gear stick. The car lurches forward again, gaining on Jackson, and the look of pure elation on Jaebum’s face makes it look like the sun is shining from within it. Jinyoung thinks he’d enjoy it more if he currently wasn’t glued to the back of his seat.

Jinyoung watches as the odometer climbs, surpassing number after number, Jaebum’s legs and hands working together in perfect unison in order to shift down, middle, up, to the left, to the right, back down again as he navigates the car at a breakneck speed down the straight stretch of empty highway. It’s apparent now that Jackson is far behind them, as the world around the car visible through the windshield is pitch black and sliced through only by the stark brightness of Jaebum’s halogen headlights.

Whooping again as though he knows he’s won already, Jaebum jabs a finger against the radio and an intensely loud electronic song starts playing. The more they drive, the more Jinyoung relaxes into his seat, watching the odometer and then the road, watching the shrubbery pass by dizzyingly fast. He leans forward a bit to try and get a better view and then, from nowhere, headlights flood the back window and then are passing them with a quick whip of wind. 

It’s Jackson’s car; he’d gained on them and then surpassed them somehow. Jaebum yells in frustration, but Jinyoung finds he likes it: the car’s going way too fast, so fast that even the smallest mistake can send it flipping and crushed beyond repair. The painted lines in the street blur together to make one long line they’re going so fast, and Jinyoung feels dizzy with the exhilaration that floods his body seemingly all at once. 

Maybe it’s adrenaline born from the sheer terror of being in a car going three times the normal speed limit for a freeway, or maybe it’s just real, unadulterated glee, but Jinyoung slams a hand down over Jaebum’s on the gear shift and yells over the music, loud and long, a single whoop that dissolves into laughter. Jaebum glances at him quickly, surprised, but Jinyoung just keeps laughing: they’re going 120 miles an hour, a speed so ridiculous it doesn’t feel real, and the entire frame of the car is shaking with the effort of it. The bass of the EDM Jaebum had put on is vibrating in his chest and this is so far out of the ordinary for boring library science major Park Jinyoung that he feels like he might be dreaming.

But Jaebum laughs with him, letting Jinyoung keep his hand over his on the gearshift as he stomps a pedal and shifts, the leather of his jacket sighing as the material rubs together. Jinyoung doesn’t know if the adrenaline absolutely pouring through him or if he’s been breathing in too much exhaust, but suddenly he wants to get in Jaebum’s lap, shove the leather jacket off, get his hands up underneath his shirt, tear it off with his bare hands. He laughs crazily, fingers tightening over Jaebum’s when Jaebum jerks the gearshift down, the engine screaming, a wildcat stuck under the hood and another behind the wheel. The back of Jackson’s car is getting closer, and Jinyoung barely notices the curve in the road before Jaebum is throwing them into it, brakes squealing, Jinyoung getting thrown against the window where he’d been sitting up on one knee in the seat. He yelps in surprise, Jaebum glancing over momentarily and throwing an arm out to grab a fistful of his shirt. 

“Sit down!” Jaebum shouts, and the screeching of the engine and the thumping of the music almost drowns him out. But Jinyoung just lets Jaebum pull him by the shirt until he’s sitting down in the seat again, Jaebum letting go to switch gears as he leans into the curve and comes out ahead of Jackson once again. Jinyoung reaches over, wildness in his brain taking over and throwing everything he’d ever considered safe from the window as Jaebum hurtles them down the strip of road nearly 140 miles an hour now. Jinyoung puts his hand on Jaebum’s thigh, delighted by the feel of warm skin underneath his fingers that’s poking out from the rips in his tight jeans. He doesn’t miss the look that crosses Jaebum’s face when he does it, but it clears a moment later as he puts a hand back down on the gearshift and keeps driving. 

“Shift!” Jinyoung shouts, wanting to feel the movement of Jaebum’s thigh under his hand. And Jaebum does, both his legs working the pedals, and Jinyoung feels a wild shudder travel up his back at the way the strong muscle of Jaebum’s thigh shifts underneath his palm. Jaebum does it again, Jinyoung’s hand sliding up higher, almost until he’s at the juncture of Jaebum’s hip and crotch.

Even over the music Jinyoung hears the soft sound Jaebum makes, and suddenly Jaebum’s grabbing his wrist and shoving it against his crotch. He’s half hard already, though whether that’s from the racing or Jinyoung touching his thigh he isn’t sure. Jaebum moans low when Jinyoung squeezes gently, feeling the line of Jaebum’s cock through his tight, ripped jeans, and he  _ must  _ be going insane if he’s actually getting pleasure from touching Im Jaebum.

“You probably shouldn’t be doing this at 150 miles an hour,” Jaebum breathes, but his hand continues to hold Jinyoung’s palm to his cock and Jinyoung continues to massage it. Jinyoung hasn’t had anything to drink tonight but he feels drunk now, excited from the staggering amount of adrenaline being in a fast car had flooded him with and from the absolute rush of want flowing through him now like a slipstream. Jaebum groans when Jinyoung rocks his hand down along the length, Jaebum’s fingertips tightening against the pulse point in his wrist and god, he must be losing it, he must be dreaming if he’s touching Im Jaebum’s cock while he drives a car murderously fast and  _ enjoying every second of it.  _

“I hate you, you know,” Jinyoung calls, hoping Jaebum hears him over the music. He’s working his fingers against Jaebum’s belt buckle, getting it undone with one hand and pulling it away enough that he can pop the button on his jeans. 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jaebum pants, biting off a groan when Jinyoung drags the zipper down slow. Jaebum makes a startled noise when Jinyoung leans over further, mouth open and hovering over his lap, breath ghosting across his cock. Jinyoung wants to laugh when Jaebum breathes  _ oh fuck  _ and then is gripping his hair, yanking his head back and away from his lap while he grips the steering wheel with the other. Jinyoung moans a little at how hard Jaebum is pulling on his hair but the pressure feels good, Jaebum’s hand tight in his hair and his head bent back. 

“Christ,” Jaebum moans, fingers tightening even more in Jinyoung’s hair until Jinyoung is biting his lip against the pleasure pain that scatters down his spine. “Can you wait?” 

“No,” Jinyoung says honestly, and it’s all it takes for Jaebum to slam on the breaks.

Jaebum lets go of his hair and he jerks forward violently, head cracking on the dashboard where he’d taken off his seatbelt to try and suck Jaebum off while he was driving. Jaebum shouts for him, leaning to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him back into his seat. Dazed, Jinyoung watches as Jaebum slows down the car to a more manageable speed and then he’s pulling off the road, the tires skidding as he slows it down further in the dirt. The car finally comes to a stop, the engine no longer whining, and Jaebum turns the music down a bit. He grabs Jinyoung’s face, turning it toward him, and Jinyoung is mildly amused at the concern he finds there. 

“Are you alright?” he breathes, but Jinyoung looks down where his pants are still undone and he’s still hard and doesn’t answer right away. “Yah, Jinyoung. Are you alright?” 

“Yes,” he breathes, hands coming up to Jaebum’s wrists. “I’m alright. Now please, please fuck me before I change my mind.”

Jaebum’s eyes darken and then he’s shoving Jinyoung into the backseat. It’s a large backseat, big enough for Jinyoung to mostly lay down on, but Jaebum is still cramped where he’s now between Jinyoung’s legs and working his hands quickly at his belt. Jinyoung bites his lip, hands gripping the door over his head as Jaebum quickly works his jeans down over his ass and then off, discarding them in the front seat. Jaebum takes a moment to admire his body: his rough hands slide up Jinyoung’s thighs, over his hips, and Jinyoung is already so hard it’s painful by the time Jaebum is moaning out his name and putting his fingers to his mouth.

Jinyoung opens obediently and sucks, eyes looking up at Jaebum from under his eyelashes while he rolls his tongue along Jaebum’s fingers. The older male has his other hand shoved down his pants, and Jinyoung moans around the obstruction in his mouth when he realizes that Jaebum is slowly jerking himself off while Jinyoung wets his fingers. Jaebum pulls them away after a moment, running them up his own cock to wet it and Jinyoung’s heart almost implodes when Jaebum’s stupid, gorgeous eyes flutter closed against the feeling. Jinyoung grabs madly at the shoulders of Jaebum’s leather jacket, shoving impatiently until Jaebum take the hint and lets it drop from his shoulders. Jinyoung actually moans at how  _ broad  _ Jaebum is: his shoulders under the simple black band tee are wide, and Jinyoung finds himself dying to dig his fingers into the skin of them.

He’s about to ask when Jaebum is running a hand up his inner thigh, effectively shattering any thoughts he was having, and Jinyoung’s back bows off the leather car seat when Jaebum’s slowly easing a finger in. He crooks it, wrist at Jinyoung’s thigh, and Jinyoung tightens his grips on the door handle as Jaebum fingers him.

“More,” he pants, and Jaebum looks up at him, all fierce and wild desire burning in his eyes. “More.” 

Jaebum sticks a second finger in, then a third, and Jinyoung groans as the stretch feels good. He can tell it’s not Jaebum’s first time doing this with how expertly he’s twisting his fingers, scissoring them up inside him until Jinyoung is practically weeping, feeling raw and exposed but oh so good, and all at the hands of Im fucking Jaebum. At this point he doesn’t care anymore, he wants Jaebum to do something to him, anything, and he begs with shamelessness. “Hyung, please, fuck me––”

“You said you hate me,” Jaebum breathes, folded over him in the backseat of his car and with three fingers knuckle deep in his ass. Jinyoung’s eyes roll back when he feels Jaebum’s cock slide against his, wet with precome and warm. Jaebum’s mouth is inches above his, so plump and kissable, and Jinyoung wants it. Wants to feel Jaebum’s mouth on his own, wants Jaebum to kiss him until he dies, or something close to it. 

“I do hate you,” Jinyoung pants, cutting off on a moan when Jaebum twists his fingers sharply and he cries out. Jaebum’s other hand is slowly creeping toward his throat, fingertips pressing into the skin underneath his jaw. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t want to fuck you.”

Jaebum jackknifes his fingers a few times until Jinyoung is practically screaming his name, cock twitching between them and so close to release but he wants to feel Jaebum inside him first.

“Maybe you hate me because you want to fuck me so much, huh?” Jaebum challenges, breath ghosting across Jinyoung’s mouth and god it’s hot in the car, sweat making his skin sticky, like it’s glued to the leather underneath him. Sweat gathers at his hairline and he’s so fucking tempted to just spit in Jaebum’s face, tell him to go to hell, but then Jaebum is pulling out his fingers and pushing in and it’s so close to heaven Jinyoung almost cries. 

The rhythm Jaebum sets is punishing: Jinyoung keeps his arms up over his head and gripping the handle over the door as Jaebum drives into him, silver hair darker with sweat and plastered sweetly to his forehead. The rings on the hand currently pressing against Jinyoung’s throat gleam in the moonlight filtering in through the windshield behind them, cold against Jinyoung’s neck. Jinyoung locks his ankles in the small of Jaebum’s back, urging him deeper, mouth dropped open on shuddering moans with each violent thrust of Jaebum’s hips. The car rocks on its axis as Jaebum thrusts into him, one hand braced against the window and the other still gripping Jinyoung’s throat, squeezing lightly when Jinyoung moans his name or his back arches off the seat. It’s a power play, choking Jinyoung like this and fuck, it’s so hot, Jaebum making intense eye contact with him as he fucks him rough and dirty in the back of his illegal racing car, looking for all the world like the naughty playboy Jinyoung knew he’d be. Their skin slaps together with every rough thrust of Jaebum’s hips, and he does something especially spectacular that has Jinyoung’s leg slipping from his back and against the radio, turning it off. 

The silenced followed by the radio being turned off is punctuated with the sounds of their harsh breathing, moans and grunts and noises of intense pleasure pulling out of each other. Jaebum’s knee is braced on the seat now, letting go of Jinyoung’s throat to grab his hips and pull him further up into his lap. Jinyoung drops his arms down and props up on his elbows, back bowing and the angle is so good now that he could scream, and he does,  _ Jaebum!  _ leaving his mouth like a prayer to God every time Jaebum’s dick brushes his sweet spot. Jaebum’s body is glistening with sweat and christ, Jinyoung might hate who he is but he can’t hate how he looks, body of a greek God carved out of marble, so tan and unmarked and the muscles corded under his skin as he holds Jinyoung’s ass in his lap shifting. Warmth seeps into his groin as Jaebum continues fucking into him punishingly, bottom lip pulled between his teeth before he lets it go and drops his mouth on a moan, the sweat dripping down his neck looking downright drinkable. Jinyoung loses the thought when Jaebum wraps his fingers around his cock, grinning wildly when Jinyoung shouts and his hips buck up into his hands.

Having Jaebum fucking into him so hard the car sounds like it’s going to break and jerking him off with an experienced hand has him being pulled in two directions, wanting to roll down onto his dick and up into his hand. Jinyoung nearly sobs, overcome with so much pleasure, the humidity in the car nothing compared to the heat inside his body, consuming him like wildfire from the inside out. Jaebum’s face has completely changed: it’s softer, less cocky, and Jaebum looking back up into his eyes has Jinyoung’s orgasm building. 

“Little faster,” Jinyoung pants, and his eyes roll back when Jaebum obeys. “Yeah, like that, oh, god, hyung, I’m gonna––”

“Do it,” Jaebum pants, saying something for the first time in a while, and his voice is wrecked when he does. “Wanna see you come for me, wanna see how much you hate me when I make you come this hard.” 

The words alone and the honey-thick way they leave his mouth is enough alone, and he comes with a shout as he closes his eyes tight while stars explode behind his eyelids. His heart is slamming against his ribcage, so hard he thinks it might break, and he drops down onto his back and arches it to give Jaebum the best possible angle as he slams into him a few more times; Jaebum’s fingernails dig into the skin at his hips when he holds him down in his lap, breath shattering out of him on a moan so low that Jinyoung can feel it vibrate up his spine. They slow down, working each other through it, the windows fogged up from their breathing and the air humid and hot. 

He’s not sure what he’s expecting now, getting fucked in the backseat of infamous Im Jaebum’s racecar, but it’s not Jaebum grabbing his pants and gently helping him back into them. Jaebum doesn’t really look directly at him, his face flushed red and sweaty, but they make eye contact when Jaebum does the button on Jinyoung’s jeans for him and slides his palm up Jinyoung’s stomach. He smiles shyly, pulling away to pull up his own jeans and open the car door to let some air in.

Jaebum watches him from where he’s still kneeled between his legs, Jinyoung sticky and uncomfortably wet in his jeans, but he doesn’t hate it. 

“So,” Jaebum says, one dark eyebrow cocked, and the razor blade smile slowly splitting his face again. “How about that second date, huh?

Jinyoung can’t help it, he laughs, even as he leans up to aim a punch at Jaebum’s shoulder. “Fuck you.”

 

-


End file.
